The Side of Angels
by kateface1993
Summary: John is called back to rejoin the military to fight against a new enemy: Hell and all the creatures who inhabit it. All that keeps him going are old memories of his late friend, knowing Sherlock would want him to fight and keep their remaining friends safe. NOTE: Not technically a crossover, but there are one or two mentions of characters from a different fandom.


"Doctor John Watson?"

John stood and turned to the lady in the doorway.

"He will see you now."

John followed the woman into the back offices, winding their way through the bare hallways. The air was cold and musty.

_Nothing's changed._

Old memories flooded John as he started to smile just a tad. He hadn't been around any of his old military bases since leaving the service. Although the terms he left on weren't the most positive, he couldn't help but feel nostalgic and, though he wouldn't ever admit it out loud, giddy. These were his old stomping grounds. These buildings were the only ones he knew for several years. These were the walls that shaped his young life.

The lady opened a door and allowed John to enter. He stepped through the threshold and looked at the man sitting behind the desk. He knew he was supposed to salute him, but deep down he wanted to hug him. This was one of his role models and best friends throughout his service. This was his old commander.

"Sergeant Eleanor."

The thick man smiled big as he stood and made his way to his guest.

"John, my dear old friend, it is wonderful to see you again." The elder gentleman shook John's hand gruffly. "And it's _Mister_ Eleanor to you. We don't need to use that official junk between us. Take a seat."

John gaped at his long lost friend sitting across from him. They hadn't seen each other in years, yet it felt like it had only been yesterday since they last spoke.

"How have you been old man? I assume military life has treated you well seeing that you're still here."

A deep chuckle growled from the man's belly. "I guess you could say that. How's civilian life going for you? How's that shoulder?"

"My shoulder is great actually. Civilian life? Not so much. I'm coping."

Another rough chuckle. "Well it's never easy adjusting back to the 'norm'. Maybe that's why I'm still here."

John gave a small laugh, then realized the silence that followedzx lasted a bit too long for his liking. "Mr. Eleanor, as much as I enjoy casual chit-chat, I assume that's not why I'm here. In fact your letter to me was labeled 'urgent', though it didn't say much else."

The sergeant's small smile faded and he looked down. Even though he didn't do much else, John got the feeling he was extremely nervous.

"John, what I'm about to tell you won't make any sense. In fact I'm not sure you'll even believe me. But, I have to try."

John looked at the man, confused. "Sir? What is it? What's wrong?"

The man sighed deep. "Well I guess the only thing to do is just say it. I just have trouble finding the correct words. I've never been in this situation before."

John was now very worried. "Sir please, tell me. What's happened? Something terrible, I'm certain. Just spill it all out."

The sergeant sighed once more before looking John in the eyes and speaking. "A few weeks ago two young men from Lawrence, Kansas in the United States warned us of an oncoming war. We did not believe them at first, but American military leaders have reason to believe what they are saying is true. They sent us pictures and videos and other forms of proof, and told us that soon we would all start seeing the signs. Needless to say, we did. Everything they predicted ended up happening, and now we are faced with a powerful enemy."

It took a few seconds before John was able to speak. "So…we're at war? And America is our ally? Who is it against? Arabs? Libyans? Germans? Who?"

The man across from him swallowed hard. "Hell."

"Pardon? Who is giving us hell?"

"It's Hell."

"Are they really that bad? I know war is hell it's always been hell but this can't be much wor-"

"John." The doctor looked into the glossy eyes of his old commander. "Our enemy is Hell itself."

John stared, confused. "What, what do you mean 'Hell itself'? You mean like Hades? Are we fighting demons and ghouls and goblins?" He began laughing at his own little joke, but was soon cut short by the Sergeant's answer.

"Yes."

Smile slowly fading, John furrowed his brow. "I don't think I understand. Are you pulling a joke on me? Am I on camera right now? Did you think I'd really believe we were going to war against Satan and all his little devil soldiers with their barbed tails and horns and pitchforks and glowing red eyes and-"

"Their eyes are actually yellow."

John stared at his old friend. He stared hard into his eyes.

"You…you're being serious. Aren't you."

"I know it's hard to believe, John, but you know me and you know I don't fool like this. You've always been able to trust me, and that's why now I'm trusting you. You know I wouldn't call you back to the service unless it was for extreme emergency situations. We need to build up an army and we need our best men."

"No."

The Sergeant looked up at John. "Excuse me?"

"I said no. I will not partake in this silly little game of yours. If you choose to be played by some foolish American children bluffing about to get some attention, then I feel sorry for you. But I refuse to be made into a twit."

"John I know this is hard to take in but this is real. Hell is coming-"

"You want to know what Hell _really_ is sir? 'Cause I know. I've seen it. Hell is when you get a call from your best friend and closest person you've ever been to telling you 'goodbye'. Hell is when he tries to convince you that you never really knew him. Hell is when he asks you to tell all those near and dear to him that his whole life was a lie. Hell is watching him reach out to you while on top of a building then jumping. Hell is watching his body slam into the pavement. Hell is seeing his all too familiar face covered in blood. Hell is grabbing his wrist and not feeling a pulse.

"Hell is watching them lower his casket into the ground. Hell is visiting his grave every day and still feeling your heart stop when you see that it's his name etched into the headstone. Hell is when you welcome the nightmares at night because it's better than reality. Hell is telling your friends you miss the man that jumped off the building last week and they tell you that happened months ago. Hell is ordering enough food for two and getting angry when he doesn't touch his plate. Hell is tasting the bitter metal barrel of a gun on your tongue but you can't pull the trigger because you can hear him telling you not to. Hell is when your therapist tells you it's been two years but you have no idea what she's talking about. Hell is watching the world around you talk about him, saying he's a worthless fraud.

"Hell is knowing without a doubt you would rather spend all of eternity in the trenches surrounded by enemy gun fire than go one more hour without him here by your side. Hell is when every person you come in contact with tells you things will get better with time yet time changes absolutely nothing. Hell is when you have notebooks surrounding your bed filled with things you could have done differently to make him choose life. Hell is knowing every single night that you weren't enough. You did not make his life worth living. You meant nothing to him."

"…John…I'm sorry…please…let me go."

It was then that John realized he was leaning over the desk, the front of the Sergeant's shirt twisted in his fist. Slowly he released his fingers and sat back down.

"Sir I…I'm so sorry. I swear I-"

"John don't concern yourself with it. You and I are both from military backgrounds. There's not much you could do to surprise me."

"Still, that was wrong of me, and I apologize."

"Apology accepted." There was a long pause before the man continued. "I take it your answer to my offer still stands."

John exhaled. "That is correct sir. If there is anything real hiding behind this supernatural cover up, let me know and I'll decide for myself if my presence is needed."

The Sergeant sighed sorrowfully but didn't argue. "Thank you for meeting with me doctor. I'm sorry to have wasted your time. You are free to leave."

John was still for a few moments more, then stood up and left without saying a word. Once outside, he looked up into the clouds.

"How unfair is that? You're the one who died, yet I'm the one in Hell."


End file.
